


Playing For Keeps

by scarletrebel



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: Her hand isn’t good, and given what’s most likely in the deck, she can’t change that. As she fiddles with the cards she wonders, once again and irritably, why she’s here. The dark edges of space glare at her over Drifters shoulder, through the open maw of the Derelict that would usually send her hurtling down into one of his Gambit matches.Instead, she sits across from him on a platform above the ready room, on a creaky chair, the only thing between her and the rogue lightbearer a table that is most likely from the dark ages.“Your move, sister.”





	Playing For Keeps

**Author's Note:**

> so when the vidoc came out for season of the drifter I was absolutely enthralled by the idea of our guardian playing space poker with everyones favourite gambit man. 
> 
> so this came to mind as a result and im really pleased about it! 
> 
> there's a couple of things i've written in the past that are referred to, but you absolutely don't need to have read them to understand what's going on here! but if you're interested i'll link them at the bottom.

“Anyone ever tell you your poker face is… Sour?”

Avia frowns, glaring at Drifter as if every one of her knives could pierce his chest along with her eyes.

Her hand isn’t good, and given what’s most likely in the deck, she can’t change that. As she fiddles with the cards she wonders, once again and irritably, why she’s here. The dark edges of space glare at her over Drifters shoulder, through the open maw of the Derelict that would usually send her hurtling down into one of his Gambit matches.

Instead, she sits across from him on a platform above the ready room, on a creaky chair, the only thing between her and the rogue lightbearer a table that is most likely from the dark ages.

“Your move, sister.”

“Yeah, I know,” she leans back, looking again at her cards. “Can’t a girl think?”

“From the look you got? Aint much to think about, is there?” His smile is wide, toothy.

She huffs, picking a card and placing it down. “There. Happy?”

“As a clam,” he takes one look at her play, considers his own hand. His next card sets her back again, and each of them are down to three cards a piece after he draws. Avia thinks, hopes, at least this might mean he’ll get to his point soon; his deal, whatever cracked plot has him inviting her into his ship to play a card game she hasn’t touched in years.

“That normally leads to the worst.” She comments, tapping a finger on the crooked corner of a card.

“See? We’re getting to know each other.”

“I’m still struggling to see _why_ I would want to do that.” And she plays again, knowing it’s hopeless.

He raises an eyebrow at the card that goes down and shrugs. “Maybe so someone can teach you how to play this game properly—” he places a card and she curses him inwardly “—seriously, which idiot managed to trick you into thinking this was it?”  

She doesn’t answer, staying silent, and wishing the two cards in her hand were anything but.

“If it was that hot-headed boyfriend of yours, I can see why you’re struggling.”

“Shut up.” She spits.

“Ah, beg your pardon, its fiancé now, right?” He flicks one of his cards, the sound a sharp single staccato. “Least that’s what Grier tells me.”

She curls her hand into a fist. “It is.”

He smirks. “Congrats.”

She puts her cards down forcefully, face down. A small part of her wants to see this stupid game through, but she has to get this going before she flips the table into Drifters smug face. “What do you want? You didn’t invite me up here just to play a card game.”

His eyes don’t change from their amused glance as he answers. “I certainly didn’t.”

“So, on with it.”

He sighs, puts his own hand down and leans forward, a forearm on the table. “Let’s talk.”

“Then talk.” Avia mirrors the stance.

“I got a good thing going. Lots of Gambit, lot’s of Guardians playing it and lots of motes. Now, you play, and you’re damn good, don’t get me wrong – a crack shot and a feared invader. But despite that, I know we haven’t seen eye to eye, and there’s only one reason for that.”

Her fingers twitch. Drifter notices the motion, his grin widening. “And I think if it wasn’t for that reason, well. We might actually get along, hell, you might like me for starters.”

“If it wasn’t for that reason, I wouldn’t like anyone. Least of all you.”

He shuffles slightly on his chair, readjusting, talking as he does. “You know, the Shore sure aint what it used to be, but no band of corrupted Fallen would ever change it outright. It’s just that everyone doing business with our friend the Spider stays out of earshot of any Guardians. But they still… Talk.”

_Talk._ The catch in the way he says that word flits a thousand images into her mind. Grabbing some poor soul by the neck, punching them once, twice, and waiting for them to cough up their own blood before they whined what she wanted to hear. She feels as though it’s purposeful, especially coupled with his mentioning of the Shore and her gut twists in defiance that he’s got a leg up on her in something that isn’t just a stupid card game.

Suddenly she sees him in her mind in her stead, and she casts the image away almost with a laugh. Drifter isn’t a fighter, of that she’s sure. Much better to talk his way out of a fight and around someone’s head to get what he needs, this she knows.

But.

In the brief seconds before she replies to him, she allows herself this reflection: His demeanour, his act, his mask, it’s not born from necessity as Tolands was, no confident arrogant power trip on top of that. Drifter knows what he is, he knows how she sees him, and he probably knows what most Guardians think of him, Gambit player or not.

Which means he isn’t like Mara, either. He doesn’t have any power to use, and his promises are only so deep. No one has loyalty to him. Her gut twists as a pale face and white fringe enter her frame of mind. Maybe some do, but it’s not comparable to the devotion she was forced into. He gathers crews, calls himself a rogue, any kind of loyalty to him? The notion doesn’t suit someone with a name such as his.

He’s something different, something she can’t place her finger on, not this time.

She swallows down her fury and asks; “I take it The Howling Dreg is still around, then?”

“Owner hopped up and found a new place the second you and your friends touched soil,” Drifter laughs, his voice dropping. “He remembers you.”

“I would imagine so,” she mutters, closing her eyes through the memory of her blades slicing through the skin of someone she had been told was a traitor.

“See!” She jumps (ashamedly so) at Drifters jovial interruption. “That’s why we _would_ get along.”

“I—” she’s taken aback at the smile on his face, as though they’ve been friends for years. “You – you think that because of who I was, we ‘should’ get along? Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“Nah, you’re not hearing me,” he leans forward again. “You’re infamous on the Shore, and you know why? It’s not just cause of whatever you did for your Queen, it’s the _way_ you did it. You knew that things had to get messy to get done, I see it in the way you invade, precise at any cost. As long as the job gets done and you get your due rewards? That’s the way to live.”

“ _You_ ,” she seethes, her hand rattling the table. “You have no idea who I was, or what I did, even less so the reasons why.”

“Oh, I know what you did,” Drifter says. “The other stuff not so much, you’re right. The folks on the Shore sure got their own ideas.”

She sees a shift in him then, miniscule, and maybe if she wasn’t looking for it she wouldn’t have caught it. A peeling back of skin, his layered charm and wit faulting him long enough for her to note a gleam in his eye, a lightless mirth.

She keeps his eye as she picks up her cards and plays one. “And what’s your idea?”

He shrugs, picking up his hand also. “Only what they told me. You wanted to impress, worked alone to get the glory.”

“You make it sound so nice.”

“Did it work?”

She looks down at the last card in her hand, the black printed circles may as well spell out _YOU LOSE_ for all it’ll get her.

“For a time,” she starts, not looking up. “It didn’t matter though.”

“Cause then you ran,” he looks briefly down at his hand and picks a card, plays it. “Right?”

“How—” A pause, she deflates. “Grier.”

“Don’t you worry, I wasn’t asking at the time. He thinks the world of you, you know, gets real chatty.”

Her chest twists. “Last I heard everyone on the Shore thought I got myself killed.”

“They still do, don’t you worry none.” He winks at her then, and there it is, the pull of the rope, the I O U laid out before them.

She sighs, throwing her last card wistfully down on the table. Drifter doesn’t even look at it. “Back to the point, something about me liking you? Because if that’s what this is all about, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’m moving up, soon enough. Got something real special in the works you kids are gonna love.” He twirls his last card around his fingers like she’s seen him do with those jade coins so many times. She can’t see the play, but he doesn’t throw it down. “I just need to… Well. Hash somethin’ out with ya.”

“Spit it out, for the love of—”

“Your brother, and your boyfriend.” He pulls the card over his mouth to hide a playful embarrassed smile. “Fiancé. Let’s talk about them.”

For all the rage inside her, she smiles, the blades on her hip feeling warm as she places a hand on one. “This should be rich.”

He places his hands up in mock defence. “Look, let’s call it concern, alright? They don’t exactly see eye to eye now, do they?”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Hey, no fault of mine! Been goin’ on for longer than I’ve been around, from what I hear.”

“Okay,” she grits her teeth. “Fair point. But you haven’t helped, so don’t _act_ concerned.”

“Not an act. Grier likes this game, likes being able to tangle with the Taken and not get his head bit off.”

“He can do that with Asher.”

“Ah, but it aint the same is it?” Leaning forward once again, Drifters grin is viscous. “Running around getting samples with that old timer? Sure gets boring after a while.”

_He wouldn’t have said that,_ Avia has to tell herself. “Your game is fairly repetitive, especially when you have six maps in the entire solar system.”

“Ouch! Don’t wound my pride now, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“And besides,” he ignores her warning. “It’s like I said, soon enough there’s gonna be something brand new for you all.”

She frowns once more. “What is it?”

“Well, wouldn’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

“Does that mean you’re finally getting to the point?”  

The air hangs silent for a second. Drifter breaks it with a laugh, leans back.

“I know you care about Grier. Hell, I know that’s an understatement – I know you’d follow him into the very depths and drag him out by the scruff of the neck, that’s if you didn’t dive in front of the thing wantin’ to kill him first.”

_But,_ Avia thinks.

“And a guy like me can’t stop that,” he goes on and Avia blinks her surprise. “Couldn’t if I tried. Not you. So, here’s the rub. The next thing I got planned? Aint no joke. It’s dangerous, and it’s messy, and I know the more that boy gets himself involved the more you’re gonna wanna put a bullet in between my eyes. Cause sister? There won’t be no pulling him out.”

_You’re wrong_ , she thinks bitterly. What she _wants_ to do is reach across this table and make him spill every little secret he has. What she _wants_ is to go back to a time when none of them knew who he was, when they didn’t care, when all he was to them was just a nameless man with a game called Gambit. 

Instead she steels herself, gripping the handle of her blade. “So that’s what all this was? A warning?”

“A heads up,” he leans over to place his winning card on top of hers, winking as he does. “Out of respect.”

She pulls her knife from her hip and stabs it between the mesh of his gauntlet and the table, missing his skin but keeping him there. His surprise is short lived, laughing beside his brief worry. She stands, her chair scraping across the metal floor sharply.

“That a no?” He grins.

She reaches across, grabs his wrist to keep it still with one hand and pulls the knife out, tossing it onto the table. Then she twists so his forearm faces the ceiling. He doesn’t resist. She pulls his hand backwards to expose the wrist – “Woah, hey,” he complains with a hint of mirth – and pulls the material back.

She stares at the tan expanse of skin. No hidden card, nothing up his sleeve.

“Aint nothing to hide, sister. Trust.”

“That’s a lie,” she shoves the hand away. “Probably the only one I can put a finger on.”

“Serious, though.” He talks as he stands. “Let Grier do his thing, you’ll both be better for it. Richer, too. I’ve got no doubts you’ll be there, watching his back. And if Rook gets himself involved? At least try and get him along for the ride, maybe if they spent more time fighting together they wouldn’t argue so much.”

The lilt in his voice on that last sentence gives her pause. She tilts her head. He goes on quickly; “There aint no stopping what’s about to happen.”

She takes her knife, reattaches it to her belt. “You told me that once before.”

“Haven’t forgot what you said after that.”

“Good.” She considers him for a second, eyebrow raised. “You… You are a piece of work, you know that?”

“That aint the worst I’ve been called, especially by you sister.” His lip curls up. “You goin’ soft on me?”

Something twists her gut, forces its way up her throat and the words come in a flash.

“He likes you. A lot,” she adds, and Drifters unreadable face at her words stir the confession forward even more. “And I… Want to. At least, I want to not upset him by finding your Ghost and stomping it myself when this all goes pear shaped.”

“I’m wanting to avoid that myself, for what it’s worth.”

_Then don’t break his heart,_ she pleads silently. _And don’t take him away from me._ She knows that saying these things aloud would be as useless as the hand she was dealt when this all started. Despite Drifters words, despite catching an ounce of genuine worry in his tone, it can’t be trusted. None of it can.

“Well. You win,” she says instead, gathering herself together. “You said we’d be better for playing along with whatever you’re planning? Fine. I’ll play along.”

She thinks of the advice Shin gave her. He was right; she has to stop trying to guess Drifters play, take whatever his plan is at its face value, and trust in herself to deal with the aftermath when it comes. She adds; “For the record? You didn’t have to beat me in a card game just to get me up here.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Drifter replies.

She summons her Ghost, Levi whirling their shell and preparing for transmat back to her ship. “I’ll see you round, Drifter.”

She disappears. Drifter takes a deep breath, curls his hands into fists on the table. He reaches into the gauntlet Avia left unscathed, and pulls a card out.

“Didn’t even need you,” he chuckles slightly, spinning it around. “Figures.”

He slows his pace on the card, thins his lips, something like regret crossing his chest.

“Nah,” he says to himself, venom on his lips. “Don’t get attached now.”

He flings the card down onto the table and walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> “You told me that once before.” 
> 
> “Haven’t forgot what you said after that.” [[X](http://scarletrebel.tumblr.com/post/180602136822/yet-more-slightly-self-indulgent-trash-to-get-me)]  
> 
> 
> She thinks of the advice Shin gave her. [[X](http://scarletrebel.tumblr.com/post/182959538442/calling-bluffs)]


End file.
